The Reincarnates
by Ladolcevita8
Summary: Tate Langdon, whose spirit had been forced to roam the earth for all of eternity finally finds himself reincarnated as Kyle Spencer where he meets the reincarnation of the love of his life: Violet Harmon/Zoe Benson.
1. Chapter 1

_"Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves._

_When one of them meets the other half, the two are struck from their senses by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire, and they don't want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment."_

- Plato, The Symposium 

* * *

Tate Langdon was never one to believe in reincarnation. Not when he had been a ghost for so long. He had always believed that there were only two outcomes to death, you either got to travel to the other side or you were stuck in the limbo that was being a ghost. But he was proven wrong on that one faithful day.

They had spent decades in the murder house but when the city finally decided to bulldoze the property opting instead to build a new megaplex on top of it, the spirits which had long haunted the house became scattered. This didn't mean they were freed, they were still prisoners of this limbo phase. But instead, their souls were forced to be dispersed over the world, souls without a body, roaming aimlessly in the vast empty space of nothingness.

And his only purpose in death now was to roam the earth for an eternity to find his one love: Violet Harmon.

Tate was like a moth to flame when it came to Violet. A masochistic moth to be drawn to something that could only burn him. But she was his fire, one that burned on exuberantly even in death, one that illuminated the darkness within him. She was the only thing that could save him from himself. He craved her. He craved her like he craved air if he was suffocating, like he craved water if he was parched.

He had been scouring this earth, floating freely as merely a spirit until one day he found himself slipping away. It was an incredibly strange sensation. Because he was a soul without a body now, it felt more like his soul was dissipating into thin air. It was as strange a sensation as feeling air suddenly become liquid.

All at once he felt so heavy, like the entire world were upon his shoulders weighing him down. Tate couldn't get used to the disorientation. For the longest time, he had felt nothing as a spirit. For someone to have felt nothing for so long and then suddenly feel the physicality of a living breathing human body, came as an incredible shock.

When he blinked his eyes open, getting used to the idea of having a body again he saw her. Violet.

"Kyle, You were a great guy", she says.

Who's Kyle? Tate thinks to himself.

He opens his mouth to yell her name, but all he can do is make these awful grunting noises like a primitive animal.

Great. It was one thing to be confined to a body that wasn't his, but now he was prisoner to a body that couldn't even function like a normal human being. 

* * *

Zoe Benson didn't know why she was so attracted to Kyle Spencer. From the first moment she had laid eyes on him at that party, it was like pure electricity in the air. Bonding them together like magnets. But she couldn't understand why she was so drawn to him. After all, he was just some guy that she had a fifteen minute conversation with at a frat part wasn't he? At least that's what she had told herself when she found herself doing unspeakable acts for him. She just kept telling herself that it was only her guilty conscience speaking when she resurrected him. That she felt partly responsible for his demise and therefore only brought him back to life as some form of penance. But it was when Kyle had stuck the gun in his mouth with a plan to end it all that Zoe had realized with sudden clarity that she didn't want to ever lose him again.

Had they been lovers in a former life? Their paths destined to cross a million times over in a million previous lives? Did she really believe in the concept of soul mates or was that all just some cheap romanticist crap dreamt up for the movies?

She stared at the boy, reduced now to a Frankenstein-esque creation, kneeling on her bathroom floor. He looks up at her with wide eyes and she feels a tinge in her heart. Was it pity or something more? He opens his mouth and grunts at her wildly and Zoe wished she could understand what it was that he was trying to say to her.

For a moment, Zoe felt like there was some sort of recognition that registered behind those big brown eyes of his. And then an even more incredulous thing happens. For a split second, she finds herself overcome with a wave of emotion, a sudden deep longing combined with an ocean of sadness. She wipes away the tears that are spilling from her eyes and she doesn't even know why she's crying.

She feels her lips moving on their own accord, like she's not even in control of her own body. And even though she doesn't know what she's about to say, it's like her lips do. As if they had said this name over and over a million times before like muscle memory.

"Tate?", she calls out.

As soon as she's said it, she comes back to herself. She can't understand who Tate is and why she called this name out.

And all they can do is stand there and stare at each other, lost in a world of confusion and awe.

* * *

A/N: Okay crappy first chapter, but hope you enjoyed it :) Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow thank you so much for all the reviews and follows. I wasn't expecting many people to read this fic and I'm happy to get all the support :)

The music which Tate is playing on the piano is** "Fiamma's Theme" by Javier Navarrete.** Please check it out on youtube while you read this fic. Enjoy!

* * *

I have the same dream every night.

I'm lost in a forest and all I can see is the darkness around me. The dense trees surround and entrap me.

And just when I think the darkness is going to swallow me up, _his_ music cuts through to me.

Each note emanates the sorrow inside of him, piercing and fleeting. It's like a beacon of light, pulling me towards him.

I don't know where I'm going but it's like my body knows and I let my mind drift as my body guides me. I'm running and running, my feet thudding against the dead, decaying leaves below me and I can see a clearing up ahead.

That's when I slow to a halt and I look up at the large mansion in front of me. In the moonlight it looks even more entrancing. It's a large Tudor red bricked house and it's almost like the house itself has a mind of it's own the way it seems to beckon to me. Almost as if I've been here before.

Almost as if I'm hypnotized I find myself turning the handle to the front door and it creaks open. Inside, I hear the piano music more clearly, each note a stab to my heart. I climb the stairs slowly, sliding my hand along those mahogany railings, feeling the house breathing along with me, welcoming me back home.

I follow the melody to a room at the end of the hall. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath and with slightly shaking hands I push open the door.

The room is dark save for the sliver of moonlight peering in through the glass windows. The only sounds are of that of the piano and our heavy breathing, cutting through the stale air. He's sitting there by the piano, his blonde curls falling over his eyes. His face is half hidden in the shadows but I can see the moonlight reflecting off of the tears which are sliding down his face as he continues to play his melancholic melody.

"Violet", he calls out to me.

Suddenly my eyes are filled with tears and this all too familiar feeling of sorrow overcomes me.

"Tate", I whisper.

As soon as I've said his name, I'm filled with so much pain and longing, the tears are spilling over my cheeks and the sobs start from my stomach and erupt at my lips.

"Why did you do it?", I find myself asking him through my tears.

He walks towards me, his lips trembling from the sobs which wrack his body, and he collapses at my feet, in a kneeling position, his tears falling on the wooden floorboards.

"Why would I do that?", he cries out as he pulls at his hair in anguish, "Why?"

"Go away Tate", I muttered.

"What?", he blubbers in desperation, holding onto my leg, "No, don't do this"

"Go away", I repeated

"You're all I want. You're all I have!", he screams

"Go away!"

And when I open my eyes, he's gone. But I feel even worse than before. I can't breathe. Even when I take large swallowing gasps of air, I can't breathe and I feel like I'm going to suffocate.

"Tate", I cry out, grasping at the thin air.

"Tate!"

And that's when my eyes shoot open, and I sit upright in my bed, a cold sweat running down my spine. The worst part is this empty gnawing feeling in my gut, like I'm trying to piece together a memory I forgot.

* * *

I'm not used to sleeping. Ghosts never have the need to and those habits die hard. That's why sometimes I lie awake deep into the night and peer over at her from my side of the bed. She's so beautiful. I don't think she remembers me, but I remember her. How could I ever forget? She is the only light in my life.

Every night that I lie awake and gaze at her, I think about the day that she willed me away. When you will a ghost to go away, they disappear from sight, but they're still there.

I remember when Violet screamed at me to go away, I suddenly turned invisible; pieces of my image diffracting like light particles, and spreading into a million shards. If there was anything worse than being a ghost and confined to a house, never being able to pass on to the afterlife, this was infinitely worse. I was still there standing right before her, yelling at her, screaming her name but she couldn't hear me. I was no better than a breeze against her fair skin. I reached out to touch her but my hands passed right through her. I still existed but on a different plane of existence than she did.

That's why I spend countless hours awake now, because I'm afraid that if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and all of this will be a dream. My eyes exist only to see her, my hands exist only to feel her, I exist only to love her.

But every night, it's always the same. She trembles a little in her sleep, that's how it starts. Then her eyebrows furrow and tears slide down the sides of her face. The painful expression evident on her face is too much for me to bear and it isn't long before I'm crying too. I huddle her closer to me, feeling her fragile body in my arms and hold her tight, willing away whatever awful things she dreams of.

And then she startles herself awake, inhaling sharply. She screams out my name, two, three times in a row. And I hold her even tighter, as if to tell her that I'm right here, I'll always be right here. She looks at me, her wide eyes brimming with tears, and for a moment there's a flash of recognition.

"Tate" she sobs and holds me tightly.

We spend the night like that, crying in each other's arms. And I know she won't remember any of this in the morning, she never does. But that's okay, because I promised I would wait for her, forever if I have to.


End file.
